Warning Signs
by StarBellySneetch
Summary: During the investigation of several gang related deaths, Brennan and Booth's lives are put in danger. As they fall deeper and deeper into the case, Brennan's dad gets invovled, just as desperate as Booth to save Brennan's life.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Bones and all its characters belong to Fox.

Though his wristwatch read that it was barely seven o'clock in the morning, Booth wasn't surprised to see the silver sports car parked in the Jeffersonian's employee parking garage. In fact, he had been counting on it being there. He had important information to share with Dr. Brennan. In his hands, he clutched the file of the most recent victim in their current case.

Well, perhaps 'recent' wasn't the best word to use. All five of the victims they discovered had been dead for at least twenty years. The first had been discovered when a construction group broke ground for a new apartment complex just outside of Washington D.C. When the body was identified as ex-gang member Rick Deckard, the case was bumped to the FBI. Since Booth was the one with the 'genius scientist partner' he was the one who had the pleasure of taking the case.

He frowned as he entered the Jeffersonian and began heading to Brennan's office. Booth hated involving Brennan in cases that involved organized crimes. The last gang they messed with, Mara Muerte, had put a hit out on her and Booth didn't really want to think about what happened in the mafia case with Kenton. He had done everything he could to keep Brennan uninvolved, but that proved impossible as more bodies kept being uncovered. They had been on the case for two weeks and Booth couldn't even be positive that this fifth body would be the last they uncovered.

As he reached the Medico-Legal lab, he pulled out his security card and swiped it with practiced ease. He was surprised to see that there were several people in Brennan's office. She stood off to the side as they fiddled around with the computer on her desk. Booth noted, somewhat apprehensively, that she seemed extremely annoyed. Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest and her foot was tapping impatiently.

Booth entered cautiously.

"What's up Bones?" he asked, motioning to the three maintenance man crowded around her desk.

She turned to him, her jaw clenched in irritation.

"My computer crashed," she said tersely.

"That's a bummer," Booth replied breezily. "Guess there's not much we can do. Let's go-"

Brennan's arms moved from her chest to her hips and she fixed him with an angry glare.

"Booth!" she said, her voice rising with aggravation. "This is serious. I can't access any of my files. Someone could have tampered with them."

Her eyes swung back to her computer. The screen was still blinking the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal lab logo. It didn't seem like the maintenance crew was making any progress. Booth took in his partner's appearance. She looked severe and intimidating despite her slim frame and pretty features. The three men working on her computer seemed to be terrified of her. But Booth could see that underneath her irritation, she was worried about what this could mean for their case.

"Hey," he said softly. "You have all your files backed up don't you?"

She nodded slowly, not moving her eyes away from her desk.

"That's not what I'm worried about," she told Booth, her voice low. "Even if all my files are still present on the computer, I have no way of knowing if someone has seen them. I'm afraid this could compromise our case."

"I don't think so Bones," he said reassuringly. "I'll get an FBI tech guy to take a look at your computer, see if anyone's been messing around with it. It'll be fine."

The tension in her shoulders subsided slightly but she stilled seemed wary. One of the maintenance men felt her eyes burning a hole in the back of his skull and dare to look up. He turned away quickly, dropping a screw driver in the process. Booth sighed and grabbed Brennan's arm.

"Come on, let's get out of here," he urged.

Brennan twisted out his grip and pursed her lips at him.

"Booth," she said seriously. "I need to be here when my computer's back up."

He placed his hand between her shoulder blades and pushed her gently to the door. She dug her heels in slightly, resisting him. Booth sighed.

"What you need to do Bones," he stated, "is come eat breakfast with me before you make one of these hard-working and dedicated employees cry."

Brennan opened her mouth to protest but shut it quickly as she looked over at the three men behind her desk. When her eyes settled on them, all three cowered and avoided eye contact. Guiltily, she allowed Booth to steer her from her office.

Across the table from Booth, Brennan glared gloomily into her cup of coffee. She had fought Booth's attempts to get her to order something more substantial, and to retaliate, Booth had ordered himself enough food to feed three people. He was now groaning obscenely as he devoured a pile of pancakes.

"Mmm Bones, you should try this." he insisted, mouth full of pancake.

She gave him a deeply disgusted look as he waved a forkful of butter-slavered, syrup-saturated pancake underneath her nose.

"I already told you Booth," she grumbled, pushing his hand away. "I'm not hungry."

Booth let his fork clatter to his plate. He allowed Brennan to stew in silence for a few moments before moving on to his bowl of fruit.

"Look at all this fruit!" he exclaimed. "I don't think I can eat all of it. It'd be a real shame if it went to waste, wouldn't it be? Don't you think so Bones?"

He gave her his charm smile. Brennan sighed and snatched the bowl away from him.

"If I eat the fruit, will you stop pestering me?" she snapped.

Booth looked up innocently.

"It's a possibility..." he replied.

She glared at him as she bit into some melon. He did his best not to let his face break out into a triumphant smile. If Brennan felt too much like Booth had won, her stubborn streak wouldn't allow her to continue eating. Booth quickly pulled out the new file to distract her. She perked up with interest.

"Another body?" she asked through a bite of banana.

Booth nodded as he handed it over.

"Farmer found it late last night," Booth explained. "It was in an abandoned field about a quarter mile away from where the first body was found."

Brennan opened the file and carefully flipped through the photos and papers.

"The FBI team put that together this morning for me," he told her. "They've had surveillance on the crime scene all night, but I told them not to touch anything until we got there."

She was now examining a photo of the skeleton. It was barely discernible through the long grass. Booth watched as her eyes narrowed and her head tilted in a familiar way.

"Think it's one of our gang members?" he asked.

Brennan closed the file and shrugged noncommittally.

"Could be," she said. "But I won't be able to tell until I can examine the body."

Booth smiled as she finished up the fruit bowl. He placed a couple of bills on the table.

"Let's go then."

Brennan was kneeling next to the skeleton, gently folding down the surrounding grass to get a clear view of it. Her glove encased hands delicately picked a few bladed off the skull. Booth bent down beside her.

"What do you got for me Bones?" he asked, rubbing his hands together.

"Definitely male," she stated, her eyes now roaming over the skull."Bullet wound to the temporal bone is consistent with the other four victims, but I won't be able to confirm that until we're back at the lab."

"Any idea how long this one's been dead?" Booth inquired.

Brennan frowned slightly as she considered the remains.

"Probably about twenty years..." she said slowly.

"So it's probably one of our guys?" Booth said, peering over her shoulder.

Brennan shook her head absently.

"Booth, you know I don't like to jump to..." her voice trailed off as she leaned to look at something on the other side of the body.

"Got something Bones?" Booth asked eagerly.

She stood up and gingerly stepped over the remains. Her fingers delicately touched the tips of the waist-high grass directly to the body's left.

"Look Booth," she said, motioning for him to come closer. "These blades of grass are bent in the opposite direction of all the others."

Booth moved around the body to her side. She was right. There was a path of grass that was bent sharply as though someone had trampled through and then tried to rearrange it so that no one could tell. Booth cursed himself for not noticing- what was the use of having training as a Ranger when he missed such crucial details?As always, he had been watching Brennan.

"Good eye Bones," he conceded gruffly.

She acknowledged his praise with a short nod. Her eyes were still focused on the bent blades of grass. Gently, she parted the long blades. Below in the ground, a shoe print was visible. Booth eyes narrowed.

"Could belong to the farmer," he suggested dubiously. "Or somebody in the surveillance crew."

"I don't think so Booth..." Brennan said, looking up at him. "In the crime scene photos, the only disturbance in the grass was the path we approached from. This would have to have been made after the photos were taken."

"Scoot over Bones," Booth said, lightly grabbing her arm. "Let me take a look."

Careful to avoid stepping on the remains, the two switched places. Booth knelt by the footprint. It was fairly large- Booth would judge it to be about a size thirteen. But it was the print that interested him so much; it was what was next to the print that grabbed his attention.

"Take a look at this Bones..." he said.

She knelt slightly behind him, her head looking over his shoulder and her breath puffing in his ear. Booth desperately tried to ignore her proximity. He pointed to the grass.

"See that flattened region right there Bones?" he asked, his voice hushed.

Brennan nodded, a crease appearing in her forehead.

"It looks like..." she began in a whisper.

"Something heavy was dragged through the grass," he finished for her, unsure why exactly they were both whispering.

Brennan placed her hand on his knee so she could lean over him to get a closer look. Her eyes narrowed like a hawk's, and she removed her hand so she could grab Booth's arm.

"Look!" she hissed quietly. "There's blood..."

Most seemed to have been absorbed into the ground, but there was obviously dried blood on the surface of the flattened grass. Brennan didn't let go of his arm.

"I thought you said there was supposed to be someone keeping watch over the crime scene..." she voiced quietly. "Nobody was here when we arrived."

"They had a local policeman keeping watch." Booth told her lowly. "I just figured he got sick of waiting and left his shift early..."

They both sat close together and stared at the trail of blood that followed the flattened path. A body had been dragged that way. A _fresh_ body. Booth could feel the thump of his pulse in his neck. He look over to Brennan. Her eyes were wide.

"Come on," he said, breaking the silence.

He gently pried her fingers off his arm, cupping his hand behind her elbow to help her to her feet. Slowly, he pulled out his gun. With Brennan trailing right behind him, he followed the path of bent grass. When his shoes bumped something, he stopped abruptly and Brennan collided into his back.

"Sorry Booth," she whispered, peering around him. "What did you find?"

"Body," Booth replied tensely.

He whipped out his cellphone as Brennan dropped to her knees by the body. The man appeared to be in his forties. He was wearing a police uniform and there was a bullet hole that went straight from temple to temple. Though it seemed to be unnecessary, Brennan pressed two fingers to his wrist, checking for a pulse.

"Dead," she told Booth softly. "Rigor mortis is just beginning to set in so I'd say only for about three hours."

Booth nodded to her, his ear pressed to his cellphone.

"This is Booth," he barked into the receiver. "We need units down to the crime scene off Chapel Road- we have another body on our hands."

The agent on the other side gave an affirmation and as Booth snapped his cell shut, Brennan inhaled sharply.

"What is it Bones?" Booth asked quickly, dropping to her side.

Slowly and wordlessly, she turned to him. Her eyes were unreadable. In her gloved hands she held a piece of paper. Booth looked it over, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

The note read, _"First warning."_


	2. Chapter 2

Angela Montenegro sat down in the chair in front of her best friend's desk and crossed her legs gracefully. She didn't take offense when Brennan continued to type furiously without acknowledging her presence. Angela had become accustomed to Brennan's tendency to get absorbed in a task. That, however, didn't mean she allowed herself to be ignored.

"So Sweetie," she said, tapping on the desk distractingly. "Computer's alright?"

Brennan continued typing for a second, mouth slightly open before responding.

"I'm resetting all my passwords," Brennan explained.

The frenzied typing and clicking commenced. Angela sighed and yanked on the keyboard. Brennan looked up in surprise.

"Think you could take a two minute break to talk with your best friend?" she asked patiently.

Brennan took her hand off the mouse and leaned back in her chair. Though she was bad at reading people, she had known Angela for a long time and she could sense a slight tension about her.

"What's wrong Ange?" she inquired, her tone conveying concern.

Angela sighed as she looked across at her friend.

"Did the FBI guy check your computer out?" Angela backtracked casually.

Brennan gave her a confused look.

"He said that someone obviously hacked into my computer, but none of the information from the case had been touched," she said slowly. "You came here to discuss my computer problem?"

Angela hesitated.

"No I didn't," she said slowly.

When she didn't elaborate, Brennan stared at her pointedly. Again, Angela sighed. These conversations usually didn't end up going her way.

"I talked to Booth," Angela began cautiously.

She gaged her friend for any type of reaction, but Brennan's face remained neutral.

"And?" Brennan prompted.

"He told me you found a police officer dead at the crime scene," Angela stated bluntly. "With a warning note."

Angela tried to get Brennan to focus on her, but her eyes were back on the computer screen again.

"That's right," Brennan said as she resumed typing. "Booth should be having the note sent over soon so we can analyze the handwriting, paper, and ink-"

"Sweetie just listen, okay?" Angela interrupted.

Brennan stopped typing but still didn't make eye contact. Angela didn't let this discourage her.

"This is what happens when cases start to go bad Bren," Angela said softly. "And organized crime cases are bad enough to start with."

"I know Ange," Brennan replied.

They fell into silence. Brennan stared at the corner of her desk. Angela bit her lip, knowing Brennan wasn't going to like what she was going to say next. But she had to say it anyways.

"Maybe you should stop doing fieldwork on this one Sweetie," Angela suggested, her words coming out in a rush. "Just stay safe in the lab, with the rest of us."

This time Brennan did make eye contact, swiveling her head around quickly. Her mouth opened in protest.

"Ange..." she began, her tone defiant.

Angela put a hand up to stop her from arguing her point.

"I know you're not going to listen, but I had to say it." Angela said wearily. "But just listen to what I have to say, alright?"

Angela's tone was thick with emotion. Brennan leaned forward to reach out to her friend, but Angela stopped her with a shake of her head.

"You're not a cop Sweetie," Angela told her. "You aren't supposed have your life out on the line like that all the time."

She paused to take a breath.

"Whenever you get involved, bad stuff happens Bren. Kenton... New Orleans... Epps... the Gravedigger..." Angela sighed. "You've been lucky before Sweetie. It's not always going to be that way."

Angela thought she saw something flicker in Brennan's blue eyes, but it was covered up quickly. Brennan gave Angela a small, understanding smile.

"I get scared sometimes too, Ange, but it's not like I'm wandering around on my own." Brennan said complacently. "I've got Booth with me."

Angela shook her head vehemently, refusing to be cajoled.

"Booth won't always be able to protect you Bren. I know it. And what's more, he knows it."

Angela's voice shook slightly as she stood up to leave.

"You and I have had this conversation before Sweetie," she said quietly. "I just wish you'd listen before it's too late."

Brennan watched the retreating back of her best friend as she exited the office. Angela walked quickly, her dark hair swaying behind her. Brennan could tell she was upset. She leaned back in her chair, slightly stunned at the intensity of Angela's concern. Did she really have reason to be so concerned?

Brennan contemplated this for a moment before absorbing herself in her computer once again.

* * *

The skeleton arrived sometime after five in the evening. When Brennan looked up from the examining table to the clock, she was surprised to find that four hours had passed since then. She tilted her head to work out the crick in her neck, and sat down for the first time since the remains had arrived.

Brennan and her team had thus far managed to match the bullet wound to those of the rest of the victims. Hodgin's soil and insect activity analysis confirmed her preliminary hypothesis that the victim had been dead for approximately twenty years. After gathering particulates, Zach had meticulously cleaned the bones. Angela promised her a facial reconstruction by morning, so hopefully they would have an ID by then.

Brennan had been cataloging previous breaks present on the skeleton. There were quite a few. Also present were signs that this wasn't the first time the victim had been shot. Brennan stood again and lightly pressed a gloved finger on a nick in the left tibia. Another healing bullet wound. She documented the find carefully in her notes.

Her head snapped up when she heard the lab's glass doors slide open. Booth walked in briskly, sliding his security card through and climbing onto the platform.

"Everyone gone home?" he asked her, as he walked over.

Brennan thought back. She vaguely remembered her coworkers wishing her goodnight as they trailed off one by one. She nodded affirmative to Booth and focused on the remains again.

"Aw come on Bones," Booth whined snapping his fingers in front of her face. "Don't ignore me. You've probably been hovering over these remains the past five hours. Let's go get a bite to eat. It's his turn to be ignored."

She looked up to convey her annoyance, but Booth was smiling so insistently that she merely rolled her eyes and leaned her arm against the examining table, giving him her full attention.

"Give me a good reason to ignore him," she challenged, a slight smirk on her face.

Booth laughed at her sauciness but steered her away from the table nevertheless.

"It's nine o'clock at night Bones and I'm offering food," he said firmly. "That's reason enough to ignore him. You work too much."

Brennan put her hands on her hips and gave him a defensive glare.

"You're being hypocritical Booth," she said motioning to his professional attire. "You've been working late too."

He ran an exhausted hand over his face.

"Yea, well, when a cop gets murdered at a crime scene, it tends to stir things up a bit Bones." he told her flatly.

Her eyes softened at this. Booth seemed genuinely worn out. He watched as she put away all her work and began shutting down the lab. Her movements were mechanical and automatic but he noticed that she seemed distracted in a way. He followed her to her office when she finished covering up the remains for the night.

Booth leaned against the doorway as she gathered up her things.

"You worried?" he asked gently.

Brennan's eyes flickered to his and then back to her bag.

"About what?" she replied stubbornly.

He sighed as she brushed past him, switching off the lights.

"About what happened at the crime scene... the dead cop... the note?" Booth said exasperatedly.

Brennan slowed her brisk pace and allowed Booth to catch up with her.

"I'm not worried..." she said slowly.

She left the sentence hanging. Booth looked over at her as they continued their way out of the building.

"But?" he prompted.

Brennan sighed, her shoulder lifting and dropping as she released the breath. She turned her head to meet his gaze.

"But Angela is," she finished.

Booth nodded understandingly and placed his hand lightly on her back. They exited into the parking garage in silence, each caught up in their own thoughts. Booth walked Brennan to her car, but when he turned to find his own, she stopped him.

"Booth..." she said tentatively. "Are you worried?"

He shook his head and cracked a cocky grin that felt fake.

_Not for myself anyway..._ he thought, watching Brennan reciprocate with a small smile and enter her car.

* * *

Booth and Brennan sat facing one another in the diner as always. The diner was mostly empty, but for a few others that they vaguely recognized as being regulars also. Despite the tension left over on their faces from the strain of a long day, it was easily discernible that each of them took comfort in this little tradition. Even an outsider could see that although they rarely touched, there was intimacy in the way they ate together- the way they each respectfully allowed the other to take the first few bites of their meal before their forks began straying to one another's plates.

"So," Booth said as he jabbed his fork into a slice of cucumber from Brennan's salad. "This guy is definitely one of our victims?"

Booth watched as she finished chewing and tilted her head in that way that always caused his eyes to stray down her neck.

"Nothing we've seen thus far suggests otherwise," she said carefully. "I'll be able to confirm it first thing in the morning."

Booth nodded and forced his eyes back to his food.

"Did anything turn up from the crime scene?" Brennan asked.

"Not much," Booth replied, shaking his head. "The CSI crew took a cast of the footprint, combed for evidence, took pictures..."

He trailed off.

"But there wasn't much there," Brennan concluded for him.

He nodded.

"The FBI will have the police officer's body to the lab in the morning." Booth told her.

"Cam should be able to give us something from the autopsy," Brennan said. "Maybe the size of the bullet wounds will match those of the skeletal remains."

Booth shrugged.

"It's possible," he conceded. "Whoever decided to leave us that little warning has got to be involved somehow in the murders."

Brennan's nose wrinkled as thought over what Booth just said.

"It's been twenty years..." she said slowly. "The gang doesn't even exist anymore."

"No," Booth agreed. "But its members still do. And I bet you anything that right now, they're getting desperate to keep these murders from coming to light. They've gotten away with it for twenty years..."

Booth pointed his fork for emphasis.

"Twenty years ago, these men were young and stupid. They probably had nothing to lose," he told Brennan seriously. "But now they have lives... they have everything to lose. And that makes them dangerous."

"Them?" Brennan asked. "You think there's more than one person involved?"

Booth grunted noncommittally.

"These men know that once we gather enough evidence on these bodies, they're all going down together," he replied, plunging his fork into his steak dramatically.

They both were silent for a minute. Brennan distractedly stirred her drink with the straw, causing the ice to clink against the edge. When she looked up to level her eyes with Booth's, she seemed troubled.

"Do you think they'll try to stop us?" she questioned, purposefully keeping her voice nonchalant.

Booth wanted to say something reassuring, but with Brennan, he knew that the truth was always the way to go.

"No doubt in my mind," he replied honestly.

Brennan nodded. They locked eyes for a minute. Booth's eyes searched Brennan's thoroughly, but he was certain that there was no trace of fear in them. And that, in turn, made Booth very afraid.


End file.
